Get Out Alive
by Sammysmissingshoe
Summary: Right from the start, Sam should have known how a hunt with strangled victims was going to end. Why was it always his neck? Set in season two, directly after Heart. Hurt!Sam, case-fic, classic Sammysmissingshoe. Story and chapter titles from a Three Days Grace song, Get Out Alive.
1. Don't Put Your Life In

**AN** : My gosh, I have been busy lately. This chapter alone took like over a month just due to constant conflicts. Anyway, just a sweet little case-fic set after _Heart._ I wanted to explore the trope of "Every supernatural creature going for Sam's neck." Based off a creepy poem I wrote for Language Arts last year. Enjoy!

 _Along the path there's a darkened green glow._

 _The twisted tree above casts its shadow._

 _They say the tree was where a man once hung._

 _The wind would rush, and the lifeless corpse swung._

 _Was the man filled with guilt, or innocence?_

 _His toes never even touched that old fence._

 _The tattered wires were his tattered clothes._

 _What was his crime? They say that no one knows._

 _Then the day did come when his body fell._

 _But there are those who claim that he escaped Hell._

 _They see his face, or hear his dying cries._

 _And that is when he looks them in the eyes._

 _They run from the man who swung in the tree._

 _What you don't know, that swinging man is me._

* * *

Every. Freaking. Time. Sam wasn't sure what it was about his neck, (And his love life) that seemed to be some kind of supernatural magnet, but it sucked. Not being able to breathe just sucked.

The simplicity behind the act just makes it all the more terrifying. Take something as simple as a hand, rope, or freaking extension cord, add enough pressure, and it isn't long before spots begin to creep into your vision.

Simple was probably the worst word to use right now though. Sam was devoid of the simplest thing of them all; breathing. It's really not something you appreciate until it's slipping away from your vision fading eyes.

It was usually the simple cases that liked to screw him over the end, not to say that Sam wasn't used to it at this point. He still hated it, but he couldn't really say he was too surprised.

This hunt though, it had seemed even simpler than simpler, and yet here he was. Black, then white spots flashed before him as he felt consciousness, and possibly life, beginning to slip away.

Even as he started to fade, Sam thought back to the beginning of the hunt.

The simplest, simplest hunt.

* * *

 _Two days ago._

"You go on this hunt, and you're just asking for it, Sammy." Dean told his brother flatly, keeping his eyes on the over-used and worn down road.

"Oh, shut up, Dean." Sam huffed. Sure, it was true that their next potential hunt had a recipe for a loss of oxygen, but nothing was set in stone. It's not like there was some force that existed just for the sake of continuously condemning him to being strangled. Then again, considering his luck, there could be.

"I'm just saying, your track record's working against you. It gets a little annoying always having to walk in on you with a blue face."

After a scoff, Sam retorted, "I'm sorry me nearing death is so inconvenient for you." Despite the seemingly harsh words, neither brother was mad at the other. For the time being at least.

"I'm just saying, next time it happens, I might not step in." Dean joked lightly.

"Uh-huh. Sure you won't, Dean."

"Hey," Dean said innocently. "Big brother's not always gonna be there to save your skin, Sammy."

Sam didn't buy that for a minute. "It's 'Sam.'" He corrected, a hint of a smile sneaking on to his face.

Casually, Dean shrugged. "Hey, your funeral."

"Not today." Was it wrong how easily these conversations came up? Were you to compare it to Dean hitting Sam due to an accidental attempt to have an actual discussion regarding their father's death, maybe a little banter wasn't the worst thing that could happen.

"Run me through the case again."

"Sounds easy enough." Sam began to explain. "First victim, Zach Fratdil, was found hanged on a tree on the outskirts of town. Everyone first wrote it off as suicide."

"Feels like there's a 'but' coming." It took Deal a whole 0.01 seconds to realise his poor choice in words. "Shut up." He ordered before Sam could even say a single word. "Just keep going."

Flashing those deceptively innocent puppy dog eyes, Sam replied, "Thought you wanted me to shut up. Can't do both, Dean."

"Quit being a bitch."

"Only if you stop being a jerk." Sam smirked a little, and then set his eyes back on the newspaper article. "Anyway, got labeled as suicide, but- that's when another body popped up, Casey Feedanot. Now people were getting suspicious. Last vic, Neil Gunner, shows up too, and it's sounding a hell of a lot more like out kind of thing."

"How you know it's not a serial killer?" Dean asked.

"Thought about that, but," He spoke as he shuffled through the papers, eyes darting across the pages until he found what he was looking for. "Place has got a history. Long time ago, a guy named Nicholas Hicks was sentenced to death for murdering his wife." He finally looked over at Dean. "Wanna take a guess at how they executed him?"

"He got hung?"

Sam tsked. "So close." He smirked. " _Hanged_."

"That's what I said!" Dean snapped back.

"You said 'hung.' The correct form is hanged."

"Alright, college boy, you keep that up and you'll be riding in the trunk."

In response, Sam just laughed. The sound brought a little smile to Dean's face. Any time he could make his brought laugh was good, but it was especially gratifying considering how upset he knew Sam really was.

Love wasn't exactly an easy concept for Dean to grasp. He thought he had felt it once, but that was a long time ago. And it wasn't exactly something Dean could see either, and he had never been one to believe in something he couldn't see. But what he had seen between Sam and Madison-...

Was it love? Was it all for nothing? Whatever the hell you wanted to call it, it had caused Sam to be the most heartbroken Dean had seen since Jessica's death. Dean now understood why Sam had constantly tried to ask him about how he felt about their father's death. More than anything, Dean just wanted to ask Sam what he was really feeling, but there was no way to do it without bringing up the unwanted memories.

Unable to ask, he'd just have to settle for making Sam happy, however brief or insignificant the moment truly was.

"So, basically," Dean clarified. "Dead guy got hung- hanged- and he's pissy about it. Any clue why he'd just start up now?"

"Nothing too special, but it does look like they've started renovations on the road he was hanged by. Probably just disrupted his burial site or something like that, and that set him off."

"Sounds easy enough. Track down his bones and burn 'em?"

"Pretty much."

If Sam had decided to say anything else, Dean had elected to ignore it, and drowned him out with the increasing volume of the radio and rushing hum of the Impala's wheels as they hurried towards their next hunt.

* * *

 **AN:** I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I hate first chapters. They kind of suck. Like- always. Luckily, I do know exactly where I am headed, it's just a matter of sitting down and getting it done. Probably only like two more chapters to go, but you do get a-

 **Sneak Peek:** "Damn, the guy seemed clean. It was so much harder when they seemed clean."

Yeah, mostly dialogue so far for the next chappy, so sneak peek was kinda hard to find. Hurt and usual Winchester awesomeness to come soon. Drop a review if y'all are enjoying! See you soon!


	2. Someone's Hands

**AN:** The lack of an update yesterday was due to refusing to work. With that out of the way, I'm about to get very real right now, so if you just want to get to the story go ahead and skip this. So- this is not a fun thing for me to admit to everyone, but I'm beginning to think that my depression is returning. That doesn't mean I'm going to give up on this story, or stop writing or anything like that. Don't worry too much about me, I'm going to be getting help soon, but a few prayers or well wishes really goes a long way. That being said, if updates take a while from here on out, that's why. I still love all my readers and would never want to abandon them. To anyone else out there dealing with similar things, remember Jared and think to yourself, "Always Keep Fighting."

* * *

"Zach's had a rough life." Confessed Zach's brother, James. "He lost his wife a few years ago. When I first heard about Zach I-" James swallowed, a familiar attempt to maintain his composure. "I believed it was suicide. Still do honestly."

"And why's that?" Sam asked, resisting the urge to tug on the uncomfortably snug collar of his fake FBI suit.

"Zach was a loner, kept to himself most of the time. He always had a bit of a temper, so he didn't have too many friends. But he didn't have any enemies either."

"How can you be sure of that?"

"He worked from home, hardly ever left the house. He just- God, I can't believe I'm saying it, but- he wasn't happy with his life. Ever since his wife died, he'd just been- off. Suicide just seems so much more believable than what the papers have been saying."

"So, Zach had no relation to the over vics-" Sam cleared his throat to hide his small error. "Victims?"

James shook his head. "Like I said, loner."

Damn, the guy seemed clean. It was so much harder when they seemed clean. "Okay, well," Sam began to stand up, minor thought of regret for coming beginning to creep into his mind. "Thank you very much for your time, James."

"Glad to help." James replied monotonously, dark and minimally red-rimmed eyes cast down at the floor.

Upon stepping out of the house, Sam was relieved to see the Impala parked out front. Good, no walking. He slid into the comfortingly familiar passenger seat. "You find anything on Casey?"

"Man, I'm telling you, suicides starting to sound more likely at this point." Dean griped as he started up the engine.

"That's what the brother told me about Zach too. How come you think that about Casey?"

"From what her neighbour told me, she didn't have much. She was real close with her mother, up until she died about two years ago."

Sam's brows knitted. "How'd she die?"

"Not sure. Why do you ask?"

"I mean," Sam's hand shifted through his hair in thought. "Zach's wife died a little less than a year ago, I think I'm seeing a pattern here."

"You mean the dead loved ones? Everyone's got dead loved ones." _"We of all people would know that."_ Dean was thankful that that last thought hadn't been voiced.

"Okay, how about this. You and I talk to Neil's wife together, and if he's recently lost someone, I say we check it out."

After a groan, Dean grumbled, "Can't we just torch the guy and be done with it?"

"I don't know, Dean. It might do us some good to figure out why he's killing people. Maybe he's feeling remorseful for what he did to his wife in the afterlife, so he punishes anyone who made the same mistake."

"Motive doesn't matter. So long as this mother burns, why he's killing ain't important."

"Dean, please. Just- trust me on this, okay? The more we know the better."

"Fine. We ask about Neil, and then Nick's getting toasted."

So yet again, Sam and Dean talked their way into a home, cover stories and puppy dog eyes doing their work.

"Mrs. Gunner," Sam started only to be interrupted by her.

"Please, Tessa." The woman requested.

"Right, Tessa. Again, very sorry to hear about your husb-"

Tessa had burst into sobs. Don't get them wrong, Sam and Dean had had their fair share of mourning widow tears, but this was just- uncomfortable. The brothers shifted in their seats, neither one sure of what to do.

"Did uh- did your husband seem depressed?" Dean asked, only to be promptly elbowed by Sam.

The sound that emitted from Tessa's mouth was borderline comical. After regaining enough of her composure, Tessa wiped her nose with her sleeve, and then nodded. "E-ever since Rachel died."

"Who's Rachel?"

Another semi-disgusting sniffle. "Sh-she's- was- our- my- neighbour." She broke into another fit.

Yikes.

Offering her a box of tissues, Dean probed a little further again. "They were close I take it?"

Nodding again, Tessa answered, "Th-they had a book club every Friday... And sometimes Saturday... And occasionally Sunday."

It took all Dean had to not outright scream in this woman's face that her husband was definitely cheating on her. "B-book club?" Sam's elbow made its way into his ribs again.

"Yeah." She blubbered. "Book club. Why would anyone hurt my Neil? He-he was the sweetest guy, always taking night-shifts, but he never once missed his book club." She sniffled once more. "Th-that's loyalty."

Did irony always feel like a slap in the face? Cuz the irony right now kind of felt like a slap in the face. "Uh-huh." Was all Dean could say.

"I-I'll never know now..." Tessa muttered.

"Know what?" Sam asked as he straightened up, even leaning in slightly.

"Rachel. She said she had something to tell me ri...-right before the accident."

"What accident?" Sam and Dean chimed in unison.

"Fell down the stairs. Br-broke her n-ne-" She was unable to finish as she broke off once more into another fit, and she didn't seem to be showing any signs of stopping anytime soon.

"Okay." Dean stood up. "I think we've taken up enough of your time. Thank you for your help." Dean wasn't even sure if Tessa was listening to them at that point. He didn't really care, he just wanted out of there.

"Yes, thank you." Sam added as he too stood up. Barely even out the door, and out came Dean's big fat mouth.

"So she was definitely getting cheated on."

Sam nodded in concurrence. "And it sounded like Rachel was about to come clean. Maybe Neil got angry and killed her."

"Freaking people, man." Dean shook his head. "Makes sense now, your little theory. We do some investigating, and if it looks like Casey's mom and Zach's wife had suspicious deaths, then we got ourselves a motive."

"Oh, so motive does matter?" Sam asked, grinning like the obnoxious little brother he really was.

"Nobody likes a know-it-all, Sammy. I'll admit, knowing what the vics have in common makes it a hell of a lot easier. Random's just so- random."

"You need some kind of degree to figure that one out?"

"You're impossible." Dean huffed. "Okay, so. We finish up our research, make sure it all fits, and then we can go dig up ol' Nicky."

"Sounds like a plan."

Five or so minutes passed, and they were at the library. Sam plopped himself down in front of a computer, and his research began. Dean managed to keep himself rather entertained with the- adult fiction novels. Sam's hushed whisper interrupted his- reading- after some time had passed.

Sighing in disappointment, Dean set down his book and made his way over to the computer. "What you got?"

"So, both Zach's wife and Casey's mother had vaguely suspicious deaths, but nothing could ever be proved."

"This is one screwed up town." Dean remarked. "Don't care how many times I've said it, but-"

"'Demons I get, people are crazy.'" Sam finished for him. "Yeah, I know. Looks like we've got our connection then." Sam checked his watch. "Alright, we've got about an hour before it'll be completely dark out. We can dig up Nick then."

"You know where he's buried?"

A few clicks of the mouse and a clack of a keyboard later, Sam nodded. "Yup. Looks like he's right under the tree he got hanged in."

"Oh, irony, you little bitch."

Laughing briefly, Sam closed off the computer, and they both set out to prep for their long night. By the time they had everything ready, it was well and truly dark enough to exhume a corpse uninterrupted.

Within an hour, their arms were sore, their faces were red, but- the skeleton had been found.

Sam sprinkled the body with salt while Dean doused it with the gasoline.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean said as he readied himself to drop the match onto the corpse. "What was this guy's favourite kind of music?"

"I don't know, De-..." Realisation came to him like a slap in the face. "Don't. Don't you dare say it."

"Swing!" And he dropped the match.

"You're a terrible person, you know that?"

Dean just gave a falsely sweet smile in return. "I'm awesome and you know it."

"Kinda weird don't you think, Dean?" Sam asked.

"What's weird?"

"I mean, the whole time we're digging up his corpse, no sign of him. Usually we start getting our asses tossed around before we so much as dent the dirt."

"No point looking in a gifted horse's mouth, Sammy."

"That's not how the saying goes, you know."

"Course you'd know that."

"A ten year old would know that." Sam countered.

"Fine, next ten year old we see, we'll ask."

"Yeah, cuz that won't get you arrested."

"You wanna keep bitching at me, or do you wanna help me cover up the dead guy?"

Sam rolled his eyes, but then set to work.

By the time it was finished, they were both fairly exhausted.

On a yawn, Dean suggested, "Alright, we stay the night, then we head out tomorrow morning. Sound like a plan?"

Yawning as well, Sam nodded.

Finally back at the hotel, the second both their heads hit their pillows, they were out.

Dean was awakened by firm hands roughly shaking him, Sam's frantic voice ordering him to look at the tv.

" _This morning a fourth body was found-..."_

Nothing else the reporter said mattered, because Sam and Dean knew.

The hunt was far from over.

* * *

 **AN:** I am nearly done with the next chapter, so I hope to get it up soon. Thank you all in advance for your patience, and I really don't want to let anyone down. Enjoy this-

 **Sneak Peek:** "'And if it finds out what you're trying to do, it's gonna-' He was cut off as what felt like sandpaper constricted around his throat, and squeezed."

So yeah, hoping to finish up a lot sooner than I did with this chapter. You will definitely hear from me soon. Thanks again, everyone.


	3. They're Bound to Steal It Away

**AN:** Thanks again to everyone for the well-wishes. Knowing that there's so many people willing to help that don't even know me really makes a difference in how I feel. Seriously, thank you all. Allow this final chapter to be a true sign of my gratitude.

* * *

"There's gotta be something we missed." Sam thought aloud as he paced.

"No kidding, Sherlock." Deans snapped back.

"Okay, if burning the body didn't work, he's gotta be attached to something else. But what?"

"You said they hung-"

"Hanged." Sam corrected.

"Dammit, Sam, is now the time?!"

"Sorry." Sam muttered.

"Hanged him on the tree where his corpse was, right?"

"Right..."

"Maybe it's the tree that he's tied to."

"I-I don't know, Dean." Sam mumbled. "It just feels like we're missing something."

"Fine, I'll go torch the damn thing and you can sit your ass down in the library looking for that missing something."

"Whoa, where the hell is this coming from?"

"You just think you're so much smarter than me, huh?"

"What?" Sam asked taken back. "No, Dean, that's insane!"

Scoffing slightly, Dean remarked, "Really? Cuz this whole damn hunt you've done nothing but correct me and doubt every freaking thing I say!"

"Not sure if you've noticed," Sam spat back, slowly becoming just as equally pissed. "But usually when we miss stuff, people die! I just want to be sure that we don't go into this blind, and find out we're next."

"Right, cuz I was completely helpless without you and your research three years ago."

"I never said that!" Sam closed his eyes, taking a calming exhale. "Dean, look. We messed up, okay? We, not just one of us, both of us, and it sucks, and now we've got a chance to make it right. But we gotta do it together."

"I'm burning the tree. You can either come with me or stay here."

"Dean, wait." Sam tried to plea as Dean headed for the door. "Dean!"

The door slammed shut.

On his side of the door, Dean was mad, but he wasn't an idiot. He knew better than to try to burn the tree in broad daylight. He'd wait until nighttime, but not before he let Mister-Know-It-All-Sam worry about him, while in reality, he'd just be paying the local bar a visit.

Was his anger unjustified? No. Did he maybe go too far with how he snapped at Sam? Yeah, probably. But he'd had enough of Sam talking down to him. Kid needed to learn when to shut his freaking mouth.

Sure, he knew Sam was hurting right now, but with all the condescension and 'playful' banter Sam had been partaking in, he obviously wasn't too bad.

Or- so Dean had believed.

Back on the other side of the door, Sam was in awe. He just couldn't believe Dean was actually mad enough to walk out on him. But Sam knew it had nothing to do with him correcting Dean's grammar.

Even now, it hadn't been that long since John's death. Normally in that type of circumstance, you'd avoid anything dealing with death, but when death is kind of your job- yeah, you're gonna snap eventually.

As tough as Dean's outer shell appeared to be, Sam knew how much he really cared about other people. Even these people, murderers. It was still wrong, and it had to be stopped.

But dammit, Dean wasn't thinking clearly! 'Never hunt angry' John had always said. Clouds your judgement, distracts you from your objective. Sam knew he couldn't help Dean properly until he had all his information, so he opened up his laptop, and started his research on Nicholas anew.

After nearly an hour of internet scavenging, a particular blog had caught his eye, one that was written by someone claiming to be a descendent of Nicholas himself.

 _"My several 'greats' over grandmother was the daughter of Nick and Lily Hicks. She was only three when she lost both her parents. But you can bet your ass she remembered it._

 _Nick wasn't a very well-liked man in their town. He wasn't rich, always dirty, had to work every damn hour of his life just to stay alive, but Lily, she was beautiful. Beautiful enough to catch the eye of the town's governor. Lots of people knew about it, but they knew better than to call out the man who could expel them from their homes. Poor Lily never stood a chance._

 _There was talk that one day while Nick was working on the fields, the governor had stormed in on Lily in a drunken fit. She called for help, but not one person came to help her._

 _By the time Nick returned, Lily was already dead. He was arrested and hanged the next day, despite the cries of their desperate daughter."_

This-this changed everything. Nick was innocent.

Oh, crap. Dean!

Not even bothering to close his laptop, Sam shot up out of his seat, and hurried out the door.

He'd spent far too much time, in his opinion, luring away the police that were staking out the tree by calling in with a fake tip about another body. Of course they were guarding it, they still believed that this is some whacked up psycho-killer.

Finally alone, Sam shouted, "Dean!" Where the hell was he?! "Dean!" Why wouldn't he be here? Still moving frantically about, Sam pulled out his cell and started to call his brother. He wasn't surprised when it went to voicemail, but it still caused his gut to clench in fear.

"Dean, I know you're pissed, but you gotta listen to me. Nick was framed, okay? He's not our ghost, but whoever is is still out here. And if it finds out what you're trying to do, it's gonna-" He was cut off when what felt like sandpaper constricted around his throat and squeezed.

"He was innocent!" A feminine voice hissed.

Struggling to free himself (and to breathe), Sam turned around to face his attacker.

"The governor killed me, but they punished my husband for it!"

Oh, God. _Lily._

"But you," she continued, tightening the drip on his neck even more. "You are a killer. You killed Madison."

Eyes widening in fear, Sam started to desperately shake his head. _"I didn't want to, she told me to, begged me to. I'd give anything to bring her back."_ Were all the things he wanted to say, but only a wheeze of air slid past his lips.

"You will pay. Justice will finally be served."

So that's why she was doing this. Punishing those who got away with the crime her husband was wrongly accused of. Justice was supposed to be blind, not a dead housewife.

What was Sam going to do now? He still had no idea where Dean was, and no way of warning him-

The phone! Sam cast a panicked glance to it, trying to see if the call was still connected. Lily had just given herself away, it was just a matter of whether or not Dean heard it.

Before Sam got the chance to see if his phone was still on, his vision went red, head shooting back on a panicked garble as Lily tugged the coarse rope around his neck like a leash, dragging him away from his phone, his safety, _Dean..._

Sam must've blacked out for a while, because the next time he was coherent enough to take in his surroundings, he was outside by the- oh, no... _The_ tree.

The rope had slackened in his apparent move, and he darted forward about an entire step before he felt his neck nearly snap at a sudden yank of the rope, causing him to collapse back on the ground. His hands shot up to his burning neck, a series of coughs erupting from his already raw throat.

Blearily, he looked behind him again, and his stomach dropped once more when he saw the few yards of rope tail that had already been thrown over the tree's branch. The end was held in Lily's hands, an icy, judgmental stare unwavering from her face.

"Justice." Was all she said.

"L-listen to me." Sam almost cringed at the cracks of his voice. "I didn't want to kill Madison, I-"

"But. You. Did." Lily challenged, knuckles whitening from her grip on the rope.

"I-I know." Sam admitted, voice no longer trembling just from the loss of oxygen. "Sh-she was a monster. She couldn't be saved." _"We had a lot in common..."_

"It was slow, you know." Lily explained, staring almost sadly into the distance as she ignored Sam's attempt at a plea. "They didn't simply snap his neck when they hanged him. They pulled him up, let him struggle until he suffocated."

Trying to swallow past the choking pressure on his neck, Sam said genuinely, "I'm sorry. He didn't deserve it."

She nodded, but before Sam could so much as begin to think that maybe he had gotten through to her, her uncaring eyes snapped back to meet his. "But you do."

And she began to pull the rope.

Sam's hands shot up to the extra length to ease the strain, and his feet began to scrabble on the ground while they could still reach.

"L-Lily," He wheezed. "What happened to Nick," His legs kept squirming. "Was wrong. But- you keep doing this, and you're no better than the governor."

Lily froze. Clearly, those were not the words Sam should have picked.

Scream an apology? Try to distract her? Sam had no idea what to do now, but then it was already too late.

With a final and overly harsh yank, Sam was airbourne, feet dangling helplessly above the ground. He tried to pull himself a little higher so his arms bore some of the weight, but the unexpected tug had weakened him, and he couldn't get a good enough grip.

 _"Stay calm, think it through. Look for a way out."_ The rational side of his brain instructed him, but the rest of him tried to drown it out with its desperate cries of, _"Air, now, can't breathe, can't think, need air, please, now, please..."_ The last part of him thought of only one thing.

 _"Dean..."_

Sam's hands could only claw at the rope for so long. They became impossibly heavy, too heavy to hold up any longer.

 _"Fight, dammit!"_ Logic cried.

 _"C-can't breathe..."_ Wheezed Desperation.

 _"Save me, Dean."_ Pleaded Hope.

All the voices were useless, he knew he couldn't fight, he obviously knew he couldn't breathe, and he was damn sure Dean wasn't coming for him.

Throat tightening, tongue swelling to the point of making Sam gag, Sam's legs eventually stopped kicking. He wanted to struggle, he wanted to breathe, and more than anything, he wanted to believe that Dean was coming for him, but-

Suddenly, he dropped. The rope vanished from his neck, and even as his vision started fading, he vaguely saw Lily throw her head back on a shriek as her ghost burst into flames.

With a smile, Sam passed out with a final thought. _"Guess Dean really does care."_

 _Madison was crying. She wouldn't look at Sam, not that Sam could look at her either._

 _He cocked the gun, and nearly sobbed when he saw her flinch, and heard her whimper in fear of the inevitable._

 _Right before he pulled the trigger, she lifted her head. Her crying eyes met his, but she gave him a nod, and mouthed, 'It's okay.'_

 _"No it isn't." Sam thought, but he wouldn't let her know how much it hurt him to do this anymore than he already had, so he did the most painful and difficult thing in his life._

 _He smiled, and nodded, leaving her with a final happy image as he pulled the trigger._

"Sam! Sammy, c'mon!"

There was a thump accompanied with an almost painful pressure on Sam's chest.

"Breathe, dammit!"

 _Thump._

"Don't you dare do this to me!"

 _Thump._

"C'mon, Sammy, I need you."

 _Thump,_ and this time, Sam lurched up with a strangled gasp.

Dean sighed in relief. "Thank God." He took a few breaths to calm himself, heartbeat beginning to fall into a less hectic and panicked rhythm. "You alright?"

Rubbing a hand over his scorched and raw neck, Sam gave a nod, a harsh cough following it. "H-how-?"

"Got your message." Dean cut him off, not wanting Sam to strain himself any further. "Figured out where the bitch was buried and took care of her. It's done now, for sure this time." He assured Sam.

Sam gave a nod in answer, too tired to give anything more.

After a few moments of silence, Dean helped get Sam on his feet, and asked. "Damn, Sammy, why's it always gotta be your neck?"

Oh, if only Sam had an answer.

* * *

 **AN:** Good news everyone. I've already started my next fic. Now depending on who you are, this can either be disappointing or really, really exciting news, but this next fic will be very torture heavy, loads of hurt Sam. Like I said, can be either good or bad news. I've even got y'all a little-

 **Sneak Peek:** "He was free to wake up with a hangover rather than a concussion from being thrown into a wall. Free to study law rather than the life of a deceased serial killer. Free to just _live_ life, rather than constantly fear that he could lose it."

Title may change, but will most likely be called _On My Own._ Not sure when I'll be getting it up, but keep an eye out for it! Thanks again and drop a review of what you thought of this story. Until next time, carry on my wayward sons!


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